Chapter 34

“……”

A chilly silence settled over the area. The man in armor openly sneered.

“It seems the Esta Magic Academy doesn’t teach basic manners either! To mumble away while someone is speaking to you.”

He then shrugged one shoulder and continued in a sing-song tone.

“Since we’re originally fellow mages, I was planning to just cut out your tongue if I took you prisoner, but… since you’re Arcan’s granddaughter, I’ll make an exception and offer you a special service.”

‘A special service?’

The sound of smacking lips echoed through the air. She hadn’t misheard.

“I’ll neatly carve away both of your arms and legs. Above the elbows, of course.”

The helmeted man cackled as he traced a finger across his own shoulder.

“After that, I’ll grant you the glorious opportunity to bear a future Imperial knight. I’m looking forward to it. With blood like Wintercrown’s, I should be able to get quite a few very healthy mages out of you.”

‘Insane bastard.’

Though she had eaten nothing, a wave of nausea threatened to rise.

She had heard the rumors that the Barbaros Empire inflicted unspeakable atrocities upon prisoners of war, but she had no idea it was to this extent.

‘He sees me as livestock.’

Could it be that even genealogy couldn’t overcome the side effects of inbreeding? The Barbaros Empire appeared to be utilizing foreign mages to breed ‘new mages.’

That explained why they never bothered with prisoner exchanges or releases.

Her mind, which had been paralyzed by fear just moments before, instantly flooded with rage. A vivid intent to kill welled up.

‘Before I die, I’ll leave at least one scar on your hide before I go down.’

Sergeant Vilev didn’t seem to have any intention of surviving either, and since they were dying together anyway, she wanted to inflict some kind of harm on this contemptible wretch.

Aethlyn channeled all her remaining strength into the two hands pressing against the ground and forced herself up. Fortunately, thanks to Sergeant Vilev shielding her from view, she could activate her magic circuit without being noticed.

The corners of Aethlyn’s lips quivered violently. A translucent magic circuit emerged over her blood-crusted left hand, and extending her left arm high, she chanted the spell.

[Atatria!!!]

The wings and limbs of the wyvern carrying the knight exploded outward in a shower of gore. A frantic shriek shook the battlefield.

Deprived of its legs and wings in an instant, the rampaging wyvern thrashed wildly, scattering blood and acidic breath in every direction.

At the exact same time, Sergeant Vilev sprang forward like a coiled spring. Lunging toward the wyvern’s head with a speed that defied his massive frame, he drove his fangs straight into one of its eyes.

Wings gone, and now sight blinded. The colossal wyvern was instantly rendered combat-incapable.

The two of them were operating strictly according to the wyvern-neutralization doctrine taught in combat manuals:

Eliminate mobility (wings, limbs).
Eliminate sensory capability (eyes).

Now came the time to execute the final step.

Finish it.

Stripped of its wings, limbs, and finally its sight, the wyvern writhed upon the muddy ground, emitting agonizing groans. The Red Knight, too, had no choice but to be thrown violently to the earth. A thick cloud of dust billowed up.

The wyvern’s agony was brief. Sergeant Vilev delivered the final blow, biting down hard and tearing out the creature’s windpipe. Bright crimson blood sprayed wildly across the mud.

While Sergeant Vilev finished off the wyvern, Aethlyn struggled desperately to reignite her magic circuit.

‘Please, please.’

There was still the rider left. She needed to strike now… but the circuit, long since pushed far beyond its limits, stubbornly refused to obey its master.

In the end, the Red Knight managed to rise to his feet before Aethlyn’s circuit could recover. Comprehending the situation belatedly, the man shrieked in Imperial:

“You filthy beast… I’ll kill you!”

Extending his left hand toward the black wolf, he chanted a spell.

[Sanguinatura!]

A spell Aethlyn did not recognize. Simultaneously, a massive wound ripped open across the sergeant’s belly, and dark crimson blood burst through his fur.

‘Gennadi!’

The moment she witnessed that sight, Aethlyn’s circuit flared back to life. A distorted yet faintly glowing circuit reappeared over her left hand.

Instinctively, she unleashed a binding spell toward the Red Knight.

[Stasio.]

The agonizing sensation of her left hand breaking accompanied a rush of hot blood spilling down past her chin. But none of that mattered. Her sole thought was protecting Sergeant Vilev. And…

‘I told you that even if I die, I’d leave at least one scar on your hide before I go.’

And that binding spell succeeded. It was nothing short of a miracle.

“Ugh!”

The knight’s body stiffened rigidly, as if bound hand and foot by an invisible noose. The ghostly aura emanating from the sword in his right hand vanished entirely.

Immediately afterward, Sergeant Vilev collapsed limply over the wyvern’s carcass like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Wintercrown… Do you truly wish to die in agony?”

The Red Knight hissed through clenched teeth. Waves of furious magic began to pressure Aethlyn’s circuit with the force of impending destruction.

‘Damn it.’

The Red Knight before her was a mage twice as strong as her younger brother, Arthur. It was a good thing she had managed to pull off a binding spell against such a master, but she didn’t think she could hold out for long. Aethlyn looked at the fallen Sergeant Vilev with a desperate gaze.

‘Now, just once more, the crush spell…’

Aethlyn twisted her left hand to reshape her magic circuit. She began to whisper the spell she had recited and repeated countless times until now.

“Ata, Atat…”

Crack.

The Red Knight relentlessly pried apart and mangled Aethlyn’s magic circuit. The binding spell holding him down was completely neutralized, and the flame burning on Aethlyn’s left hand went out entirely.

The moment he broke free from the binding, the Red Knight used magic to lift Aethlyn into midair. He hoisted her up and instantly dragged her right in front of him.

“……!!!”

The Red Knight’s sturdy gauntlet wrapped around Aethlyn’s throat all at once. The sharp iron plate on the thumb section pressed into and bruised her thin, pale skin.

“What were you trying to accomplish with mere binding magic? What were you hoping to buy by scraping together even a few more seconds?”

The pointed, bird-beak-like helmet visor was right in front of Aethlyn’s nose. Through the viewing slit of the helmet, an abyss devoid of light stared back at Aethlyn.

“It’s unfortunate. I thought a Wintercrown would serve well enough as a ‘vessel’ to reproduce Imperial mages.”

A voice of genuine regret.

“But a vessel this foolish… isn’t needed. I’ll just have to shatter you to pieces. Crush you completely.”

Her throat slowly tightened. Oxygen grew scarce, and her eyes kept rolling back beneath her eyelids.

The knight’s grip clamped down even tighter on Aethlyn’s lifeline. Crunch. It sounded as though something was breaking.

‘Gennadi.’

With all her might, Aethlyn rolled her eyes to the right, past the knight’s shoulder. At the edge of her blurring vision lay the butchered wyvern carcass. And sprawled over it was Sergeant Vilev. Black fur and crimson blood were matted together across his chest.

It was hard to tell if he was alive or dead, but one thing was certain. He was either dead or dying. Aethlyn was no different. She might still be breathing this very second, but she was hurtling rapidly toward death.

Once she accepted that fact, her mind strangely grew calm.

‘Better to die as a mage than to live as that red madman’s livestock.’

Until just a moment ago, she had been frantic with the fear of death, but after seeing a far more horrifying option, her mind felt at ease.

Oxygen in her brain was growing increasingly scarce. Aethlyn’s life flashed before her eyes like a revolving lantern.

Aethlyn Wintercrown graduating at the top of her class from the Magic Army program and receiving a commendation.

Aethlyn Wintercrown rejecting Federin Taragor’s confession without a second of hesitation.

Aethlyn Wintercrown surrounded by the scions of prestigious magical families. Aethlyn Wintercrown smiling with her head held high among them.

Aethlyn Wintercrown arguing with her stepmother before the family elders.

Aethlyn Wintercrown watching the final moments of her grandfather’s passing.

Magic school graduation, foolish memories with friends.

Entrance, and the examination.

Right before death, Aethlyn’s brain busily rummaged through its owner’s past.

Methodically, it searched and searched through past memories to see if there was even a shred of knowledge that could aid in survival.

Yet there was no way such a thing could exist.

Scenes from the past began to dissolve into incomprehensible fragments of images.

Snowflakes shooting upward instead of falling from the sky.

The endlessly spiraling stairs of the Wintercrown Magic Tower.

The memory of sneaking into her father’s study and tracing the worn spine of an old book with her fingertips.

And the massive tapestry hanging on the study wall.

It was a tapestry depicting great mages, with a serpentine golden dragon trampled and wailing beneath their feet.

The white, majestic ducal estate glowing in the pre-dawn darkness. The lakeside shining like gold in the morning glow.

[Lumina!]

The first ice cream she ever tasted at a village harvest festival she attended with her mother when she was little. The first waltz she danced with her grandfather. The first novel she ever read.

A black wolf.

A black dog.

A thin boy with a sad face.

Tears pooled in the corners of Aethlyn’s eyes. As her life flickered out, a biting, vicious cold assailed her.

‘It’s cold.’

Having finally given up on survival, Aethlyn’s brain played back a single warm memory into her consciousness as if to comfort its master.

It was a memory of her deceased mother, whose face she could no longer even remember.